


Lord of the Rings AU Drabbles

by Edoraslass



Series: LOTR AU Drabbles [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU everywhere, Character Death, Major Character(s), Minor Character(s), Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LOTR AU drabbles.  Be aware, my motto is "everyone must eventually be screwed over in an AU" .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escaping

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having to gather these from various places, so I may forget to add a warning or update a character after I've added a drabble. Let me know if that's the case, and I'll update.
> 
> ~*~

“I will go in search of Imladris, Father,” Boromir said, reluctant, “but only if you command it. I am loathe to leave my lady wife, when she is so near her time.”  
  
At the word “wife”, Denethor saw a vein pulse in Faramir’s neck, and, with sickening certainty, Denethor knew why his younger son’s behaviour had changed since the elder's marriage -- why Faramir spent more and more time in Ithilien; why he seemed cordially distant to Boromir’s lovely young wife, Éowyn; why he was less at ease with Boromir himself, when they had always been so close -- and Denethor’s heart ached for his beloved child.   
  
He turned to Faramir, whose eyes gave away nothing. “Shall you take this task?” he asked simply.  
  
Something like relief flickered across Faramir’s face, so quickly that Denethor was not sure he had seen it. “I will, Father,” he replied, and if there was gratitude in his voice, only Denethor heard it.   
.


	2. More Than Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally for Annmarwalk

 “Well, my friend,” Théodred said, refilling Boromir’s mug, “this has been quite a day, has it not?”

“It has,” Boromir nodded. “And also more wearying that I would have guessed.”

“It is surprising how standing up and speaking can tire a man,” Theodred replied, emptying his own mug. “Ah, but it was worth it, was it not?”

“It was indeed,” Boromir replied with a besotted grin.

“Husband!” Éowyn’s laughing voice made them both look up, and Boromir’s heart raced at the warm smile on her face which was meant only for him.

_Her husband._

“Will you dance with your new wife?”    


	3. Almost a Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to "More Than Alilies"

 This noble Gondorian is almost a stranger, but Eowyn feels as if she knows him. She has heard friends and family sing his praises, and knows that they are well-pleased with the match.

Eowyn, too, is well-pleased, for he is fair of face and honorable of character. She knows he will be a good husband and father.

She turns at his laughter, and sees him talking with her cousin. Boromir’s eyes meet hers, and a shiver of anticipation runs down her spine.

“Husband!” she calls laughingly. His answering smile is only for her. “Will you dance with your new wife?”    


	4. When We Grow Up, We'll Both Be Soldiers

“Eorlingas!” 

Théodred turns, startled by that familiar, welcome voice. The Orc’s axe sails narrowly past. He swiftly dispatches the creature, and another, another, another…. 

He cannot see Éomer, though he can hear his cousin bellowing, and is heartened. 

Éomer’s voice is silenced. 

A great shout of triumph erupts from terrible Orcish throats. He struggles to see, to prove wrong what he knows is true. 

The Isengarders advance on him, and no other. 

He is isolated from his men.

Théodred grips the hilt of his sword. He wonders what will become of Éowyn, of Rohan. 

He silently asks his father’s forgiveness.


	5. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to "When We Grow Up, We'll Both Be Soldiers"

Today should be joyous, for I am to be wed. But this day, I am to wed Gríma Wormtongue.

If Éomer and Théodred were alive, they would kill him where he stood, royal decree or no. But I am the only warrior of the House of Eorl left to defend Rohan. I know my duty.

Grima thinks himself triumphant, through trickery of my uncle and by the assassination of my kin. He thinks I have surrendered to my fate.

My marriage bed will be christened with blood, as all such beds are.

But it will not that of my maidenhead.    


	6. Worries

“Théodred is guarding the Fords,” Éomer said to his sister. “He has Grimbold with him, and Elfhelm will not be far off. They are strong warriors, and will put up a great fight.”

Éowyn cast a curious glance at her brother. “Are you worried, brother?” she asked. “You should not doubt.”

“They have been fighting Orcs their whole lives, Éowyn ,” Éomer reminded her.”They will not fall easily.”

“But they will fall,” Éowyn assured him, eyes hardening with resolve. “I will see to Théoden, and then the throne will be yours.”

Éomer’s answering grin shone like a blade in the back.    


	7. What Warmth Within

Fair she was, but cold as the thin sun on Midwinter’s Day. Faramir hoped that warmth lay within, for the sake of Gondor and the soon-King Elessar.

Though not yet Steward, he still wielded power in the City, and at her request, had her installed in a room which faced East. She wish to look toward the land which threated to swallow her kin and crush her betrothed.

Faramir watched her as she wandered the gardens of the Houses, pale and remote as the flowers that grew above the tree line, and wondered, _What kind of queen will this Eowyn be?_


	8. A Meeting On The Plains

“Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?” said the Rider in the common speech. “Speak quickly!”

“We are travelers, and friends of Rohan,” Aragorn answered.

Gimli spoke up, with less courtesy than Aragorn thought wise. “Give me your name, horsemaster, and I will give you mine.”

The tall Rider glared at the Dwarf, and dismounted swiftly, his proud eyes glinting dangerously. “The stranger should proclaim himself first,” he declared, as his men guarded him closely. “But I am called Éomund of the Eastmark, and am Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Now state your business in Rohan!”    


	9. Almost

He stood motionless, entranced by the golden band. Hard to believe that this was the cause of so much despair, of so much death.

Such a small thing, unremarkable in appearance, much like any other gold ring.

But this Ring – ah, this Ring spoke to him. It spoke to him of glorious deeds he would perform, of his name praised throughout Middle Earth, of Numenor restored to its past glory.

If he would take it for himself.

He turned, saw Elrond’s anxious, horrified face.

 _It is all a lie._ Isildur opened his hand, and cast the Ring into the fire.    


End file.
